Werewolf Queen wasn't on her middle-aged bingo card... In the Midnight Hour A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel by Lori Handeland ➱ Book Tour with Guest Post & Rafflecopter
Werewolf Queen wasn't on her middle-aged bingo card...
In the Midnight Hour
A Midnight Madness Nightcreature Novel Book 3
by Lori Handeland
Genre: Paranormal Women's Fiction
Just
when I thought it was safe to go home…
I’ve
been running too long. I’d gotten sloppy. Sloppy gets you captured.
But it turns out, the very one I thought I had to hide from, saved
me.
I just want to live peacefully. But happy family,
er, pack reunions
don’t seem to be in my future. When my secret is used against me,
I’m forced to run again. This time, help comes from the most
unexpected source, the greatest werewolf hunter of all time, Edward
Mandenauer.
To get what we both want—the end of the
sadistic, yet sexy, werewolf Zane—Edward and I join forces. But
Zane isn’t working alone. Nor is he who or what he says he is. He’s
much, much more…
All I want is the life I believed I’d
lost, but at this rate, I’ll end up captured, imprisoned, enslaved
. . . or dead.
From
the voice of New
York Times bestselling
author Lori Handeland, the final installment in the Midnight
Madness trilogy
takes you deep into her Nightcreature world, complete with the humor,
depth of characterization and fast-paced plot lines the author is
known for while showcasing her incredible range.
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Blame It On Midnight
A Midnight Madness Nightcreature Novel Book 2
I
saved my daughter. But how do I save myself?
I
did what I had to. Try and kill my girl? I will end you faster than
you can say have
mercy.
Sure I broke a cardinal pack rule, which will get me executed by my
mate. If they find out. If they find me.
Saved from capture by
Zane, the sexiest of sexy werewolves, my rescue comes with a price.
Zane wants a favor, one that could cause an all-out pack war. The
last thing I need is to make more enemies, but lives are at stake if
I don’t make a stand.
Not only that, but I have a secret. An
impossible secret that is going to turn the entire werewolf world
upside down.
From the voice of New
York Times bestselling
author Lori Handeland, a new volume in her Nightcreature world,
complete with the humor, depth of characterization and fast-paced
plot lines she is known for while showcasing the author’s
incredible range.
Amazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo * Smashwords * Books2Read * Bookbub * Goodreads
Nothing Good Happens After Midnight
A Midnight Madness Nightcreature Novel Book 1
They
say a mother will do anything for her child . . . I’m living
proof
This
nightmare began when I got the call every parent dreads. My daughter,
Jenna, was missing from her college campus. Of course, my mind went
to the worst place. After all, my late husband was a powerful
senator. Was this some political payback?
I call in a favor
and soon I’m partnered with an FBI sex trafficking agent. He tells
me local girls have been disappearing for some time now, and he
finally has a lead. But what we find at that abandoned warehouse is
something out of a horror movie.
Werewolves! Two rival packs,
their alphas fighting, winner take all––the pack and the
trafficked girls. The werewolves must replenish their breeders,
recently decimated by a virus that killed only the females.
But
Jenna’s been keeping a secret, which only makes two of us. Though I
should be angry, I know the lies I’ve told play a huge role in why
we’re here. I’ll do anything to make it right. No way is my girl
going to become a sacrificial mate for the greater good––even if
she is the ‘chosen one.’ So, I do what any mother would do, I
take her place, offering myself to Gideon, the winning alpha, as his
mate.
Gideon’s goal is to live in harmony with the human
world, but there are others who exist for the power, for the
violence, and they don’t plan to let peace prevail.
There’s
a civil werewolf war brewing and I am right in the middle of
it.
From the voice of New
York Times bestselling
author Lori Handeland, a new volume in her Nightcreature world,
complete with the humor, depth of characterization and fast-paced
plot lines she is known for while showcasing the author’s
incredible range.
Amazon * B&N * Kobo * Smashwords * Books2Read * Bookbub * Goodreads
**FREEBIE ALERT!**
Get the first Nightcreature novel, Blue Moon for FREE!!
I strolled down
the deserted streets of Wisconsin’s capital city and tried to think of a plan.
I could only come up with one.
The first person I
saw getting out of a car was in the employee lot of a twenty-four-hour diner. I
approached her, and she smiled. I was an older woman, nonthreatening, no
danger. I felt bad about what I was about to do, but I did it anyway, smiling
back as I touched my fingertips to my temple. “Give me your car keys, then go
to work.”
She repeated my
instructions, handed over her keys, and reached into the midnight-blue Hyundai
SUV for her purse.
“Leave it.”
Sadly, my borrowed
pockets held nothing but lint. Should have thought ahead and asked my daughter
for some cash—though like most Gen Zers, she rarely had any. But what difference
did stealing make on top of grand theft auto?
At the next gas
station, I used the woman’s cell phone—no password, shame on her—to search for
the Leonard farm, then scribbled the address on a stray receipt. I tossed her
phone into a sewer grate before heading inside where I bought a burner, then
asked for a map of Wisconsin.
“You could just
get this one.” The clerk pointed to a more expensive phone. “Then you could GPS
it.”
I’d have to
connect to my personal provider for that. And the entire point of tossing my
own phone days ago, as well as tossing the phone of the waitress I’d robbed
just now, was so Gideon couldn’t find me.
I shook my head.
“Maps?”
The guy pointed to
a revolving wire carousel hidden behind a display of energy drinks, which
contained maps of Wisconsin and the surrounding states.
“I don’t know the
last time anyone bought one of these.” The clerk scanned the barcode. “I hope
it doesn’t send you down a road to nowhere.”
I wasn’t worried.
The roads of northern Wisconsin didn’t change much. The Department of
Transportation spent its budget on the byways that got the most use, for
instance, the ones that went into and out of big cities or those that went into
and out of the state. Considering those restored Victorians, Viroqua had been there
since the mid-to-late 1800s, which meant the roads surrounding it had been
there that long as well with only baseline maintenance and little to no
rerouting.
In less than two
hours, I turned off a highway that had been mostly deserted and rattled down
the rutted gravel driveway that led to the Leonard farm. The moon’s silvery
glow had been dulled to pewter by a sky filled with clouds. I still heard the
moon singing, but her voice had waned, night by night, since she’d been full.
According to every werewolf I knew, that music would grow louder as she waxed
from new to full.
The just-sprung
buds of corn in the fields fluttered, their shade a muted moss shrouded in ice,
while the mud in the barnyard recalled a cup of espresso, the puddles
undulating like a raven’s wing. In that vista of sepia, the white clapboard
house and outbuildings shone pearlescent.
The night held its
breath, but all I heard were the clicks of a cooling engine and the beginnings
of a breeze. Shouldn’t there be the lowing of cows? Shouldn’t there be
cows? Shouldn’t there be someone waking up to deal with the cows?
The porch steps
creaked like those in a Gothic novel. I’d read quite a few once I’d discovered
that Gothic lit became popular during the Victorian period. I’d been partial to
Dracula. Kind of hilarious now.
I lifted my hand
to knock, and the door screeched open. Maybe not so hilarious. If there were
werewolves, were there vampires?
“Bloody hell.” I
bit my tongue to stem the hysterical laughter that bubbled up over my choice of
curse words. “Hello? Anyone home?”
As I didn’t want
to be shot for trespassing, I remained perched on the threshold. Then it
occurred to me that while that might hurt, it probably wouldn’t kill me because
the chances of a dairy farmer in Viroqua packing silver cartridges were slim to
none.
I stepped inside.
“I have information about Natalie.”
I’d thought of
little else during the two-hour drive, but what could I tell the Leonards that
wouldn’t get them wiped out by a werewolf for knowing it? All I had were two
truths and a lie—she’d been kidnapped by sex traffickers, then killed. And me?
I was with the FBI task force handling the case.
I’d believed it
when Ash said it; I hoped the Leonards would believe it when I did. If not, I’d
have to push them to do so, as well as to keep the news to themselves. Didn’t
need any real FBI agents following up.
Not a great plan,
but I had to work with what I had.
I listened for the
sounds of someone getting out of bed, opening a door, flushing a toilet. All I
heard was another creak. I wished I had a gun, but my fangs and my teeth and my
inability to die except by silver were pretty good weapons.
However, I was
here to tell the Leonard family a partial truth. I wasn’t going to be able to
do that if I was a wolf. And I wanted to tell them, needed to. There were many, many girls who weren’t coming
home. Many, many families who would never know where they’d gone or what had
happened to them. This girl I could do something about.
I took a breath to
call out again, and the door slammed behind me. I would have blamed the wind if
not for the gun barrel pressed to the base of my skull. I went very still.
“I told you I’d
kill you the next time I saw you.”
Blame it on Midnight
“You’re
my wife,” he said. “We’ll figure it out.”
“I’m not
your wife.”
“My
mate. Same thing.”
“You
said it wasn’t the same. That humans marry and wolves mate.”
“Mating
is deeper, more.” A growl rippled the air. My air, and he wasn’t even in my air.
“Until death, which is a very long time in our world.”
I’d allowed
this, embraced this to save my girl, but now I needed to save not
only Gideon, but also the pack that had come to feel like family far too fast.
“I’m
sorry, but we need to do whatever we have to do to undo this.” I
waved a finger back and forth between us.
“There
is no undoing it.”
“I don’t
believe you.” And with that, I disconnected the call, powered down, yanked out
the SIM card, and dropped both it and the phone into the tropical fish tank
Patrick had given to Frankie one Christmas.
“Sarah!
What the hell?” Frankie stood in the entryway from the hall.
“I’ll
buy you another one.”
He waved
a hand as if to chase a fly. “Heir? Mates? Pack?”
“You
were eavesdropping?” I had waited for the sound of a door closing, but what I
hadn’t done was check to make sure that Frankie was behind it. Silly me.
“You
sound like a lunatic.”
“Feel
like one too.”
Frankie
shoved his fingers through his hair, mussing it more than I’d ever seen it
mussed. “He’s Jenna’s dad?”
I
nodded.
“Did
Patrick know?”
Since
Patrick and I had never had sex—surprised he hadn’t shared that . . . “Of
course.” I paused, gathering my thoughts. I wasn’t supposed to share this, but
there was a lot I wasn’t supposed to do that I’d already done. “There’s another
world that lives beneath the moon. One that howls. One that kills.”
“You
really believe that.” It wasn’t a question. “What else?”
I told
him. All of it. Why not? I could always make him forget.
When I
got to the part about Ash, Frankie held up a hand. “The FBI sent a werewolf
hunter.”
“Apparently,
certain cases are routed to them.”
“To the
. . . what was it? Jager-Suchers?”
“Hunter-searchers.
When you called your contact and said Jenna was missing, that contact called
Ash, who’d been trying to find other missing girls.”
His
niece, Haley, being one of them.
“I don’t
know an Ash.” Frankie rubbed his temple. “Do I?”
“I made
you forget. I didn’t want you searching for him or calling anyone who might.”
And I should have stuck with that plan, but the ship had sailed.
“And
where is he now?”
Chained
in a dungeon somewhere awaiting execution. I’d tried to find out where but—
“Don’t
have a clue.”
Frankie
glanced at the door. “We should probably go.”
“Where?”
“Psych
hospital.”
I
laughed so hard I had to bend over to catch my breath.
“You
finished?” he asked when I had. “Were you experimenting with psychedelics? Weird
mushrooms? Bad food? Did someone slip you a mickey?”
“I don’t
think that’s what they call it anymore.” Though what they called it I had no
idea. “You believe I’m crazy.”
“As a
shithouse rat. No offense.”
I
snorted; I’d heard worse on the campaign trail. “And Gideon?”
“Who’s
Gideon?”
“Guy on
your phone.”
“Ah. The
alpha.” He twisted the title into an insult, and annoyance trilled along my
spine. “Shared delusion?”
“What
about these?” I pointed at my formerly gingham-blue eyes, now a lovely royal
cerulean.
He
frowned; he hadn’t noticed them. Maybe
because I had turned off all the lights.
“Tinted
contacts.”
Except I
wasn’t wearing any, but why bother? He was going to see what he wanted to see,
it was the way of humans when what they saw was impossible.
I strode
for the door.
Frankie hurried
to keep up. “I’ll call ahead, talk to someone I know at the—” He peered into
the fish tank, where all the pretty fishies flitted around his phone like it
was a brand-new fish toy. “Crap.”
“Guess
it’s show-and-tell time,” I said. “Or maybe tell, then show.”
Why I
didn’t just zap his memory—again—I wasn’t sure. Perhaps a nagging concern that
doing so too many times might give him a brain bleed. Or maybe I just needed
someone to know. Someone who wasn’t part
of this frightening new world I’d been thrust into. Still, telling Frankie had
been a dumb idea. All about what I needed, what I wanted. Selfish.
“Hold
on. Let me . . .” He glanced around,
lost as a millennial without a cell phone. Or a landline.
I set my
hand on the doorknob. “Don’t worry. I won’t tear out your throat.” I yanked
open the door.
The wolf
on the porch lifted his lip, and a snarl curled free.
“But he
might.”
Nothing Good Happens After Midnight
In my experience, no one was incorruptible.
The Hakim swished his hand toward a hall that led deeper into the warehouse. “And now for the revelation.”
Gooseflesh prickled at the sound of his voice—deep, smooth, mesmerizing, the accent just British enough to sound smart AF.
All eyes fixed on the utter darkness beyond the doorway. Nothing moved, or if it did, I sure couldn’t see it. Everyone seemed to hold their breath, waiting for the revelation.
Instead, a man—old and stringy, bald too, face resembling a golden raisin left forever in the sun—slipped through.
“Wendell,” Ash said, “the victor’s second-in-command.”
“Seriously?” How did that guy command anything?
“Looks are deceiving. Wendell was changed as an old man, but he has the strength, the viciousness, and the magic of a Qutrub.”
Before I could ask anything else, one of the most beautiful creatures I’d ever seen emerged. Not that my life had been full of gorgeous men. The closest I’d ever gotten was a fundraiser attended by Brad Pitt. He had been can’t take your eyes off him pretty, but this guy . . .
Imagine the face of Regé-Jean Page, skin and eyes a vista where desert meets the sky, framed by a waterfall of shining hair the shade of burnished copper, curly and tangled as Jason Momoa’s, atop Deadpool’s—I mean, Ryan Reynolds’s—body and you get—
“Zane.” Ash practically spat the word. “Badru’s beta.”
Ash hated him more than he’d hated any of the others, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why.
“He killed your family.”
As it wasn’t a question, Ash didn’t answer.
“To the victor go the spoils.” Zane’s voice rose above the others, his accent only slightly less sexy than Antonio Banderas’s. However, his wasn’t Spanish. More like French, but not quite. “The prizes are yours. As are we.”
He bowed so low his forehead nearly touched his knees. I could have done a world of yoga and never managed that.
Here, there among the crowd, the members of the losing pack did the same. When they straightened, their gazes returned to Zane, or maybe it wasn’t him so much as whatever waited on the other end of the chain trailing from his long, supple fingers.
“And now for pwi an, the prize.”
I thought there were prizes. Plural. Was it better or worse to be the prize?
“What language is that?” I asked.
“Haitian Creole, but sometimes he’ll toss in some French just to sound more of a pretentious ass.”
Zane swept his other hand in that direction too; the grace in the gesture reminded me of the hostesses on The Price is Right.
Janice, please show our contestants what they’ve won.
He yanked on that chain, and Jenna stumbled from the darkness, a collar around her neck.
“No,” I whispered.
“Change her,” Zane said. “Per the agreement, you must make the chosen one your luna. Tonight at the apex of this full moon.”
“Wait!” My whisper had become a shout. I lurched to my feet. “Take me. Change me!”
“Sarah, don’t!” Ash tried to grab my arm, then my chain, but he missed both as I left him behind.
I didn’t care. All that mattered was Jenna. All that had ever mattered was her.
How did you come up with the title of the book?
My husband always told our sons when they asked to stay out
later than curfew “Nothing Good Happens After Midnight.” I kept that in my head as a great title and
when I began writing Book #1 in the Midnight Madness trilogy, I knew that was
the book the title was perfect for.
Who designed your book covers?
Kim
Killion. She does amazing work. Take a look at my May 5th women’s
fiction release SUDDENLY THAT SUMMER as well.
It’s also stunning.
Did you learn anything during the writing of your recent
book?
I learned that I still have books in my brain for the
paranormal market. I wasn’t so sure.
If your book was made into a film, who would you like to play
the lead?
Diane Kruger for Sarah. Scott Eastwood for Gideon. Anson Mount for Ash (but all grubby and
unshaven like in HELL ON WHEELS). I can’t really find a perfect actor for
Zane. Maybe someone will help me.
Hey, maybe Clint Eastwood for Edward!!
Anything specific you want to tell your readers?
Thank you for hanging in with me for all these years. I think if you like my voice and style in one
genre, I’d hope you would give one or more of my books in other genres a try
because I think you’d like them too.
Do your characters seem to hijack the story or do you feel
like you have the reigns of the story?
My characters always hijack the story at some point. If
they didn’t it wouldn’t be any fun.
Convince us why you feel your book is a must read.
My books are all fast paced, with realistic characters and
a combination of angst and humor.
Have you written any other books that are not published?
I have been lucky to publish every full length novel I’ve
written.
If your book had a candle, what scent would it be?
Hot cinnamon.
Lori Handeland is a five-time nominee and two-time winner of the prestigious RITA™ Award from Romance Writers of America, as well as the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over sixty novels spanning the genres of paranormal romance, urban fantasy, contemporary romance, historical romance, historical fantasy and women’s fiction. Her novel Just Once received a coveted, starred review from Library Journal and was optioned as a feature film by Catalyst Global Media.
Lori set her sight on being an author at the age of ten. She remembers sitting at a typewriter before she knew how to type, pecking out a story about a family who went into space. As an only child her summers were spent with that typewriter, television, and, above all, books. As a young adult, she got sidetracked by the need to make a living. She worked as a waitress and later enrolled in college to become a teacher.
Lori lives in Southern Wisconsin with her husband of over thirty-five years. In between writing and reading, she enjoys long walks with their rescue mutt, Arnold, and visits from her two grown sons, awesome daughter-in-law and perfectly adorable grandchildren.
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Thanks for having me on your blog.
ReplyDeleteSounds like a good series. I really like the covers. They look great.
ReplyDelete